


Bring Me Back This Flower; When it is Withered

by D20Owlbear



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (pls i need this for them), (your honor i love them), 1920s Clothing, Catharsis/Comfort, F/F, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), La Traviata (Opera), Post canon, Rated G for Generally CUddling, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Themed Opera Night, as no one is really hurt, author knows nothing about opera except for that one time when they went at 12 years old, but like actually, fuck it, i mean there's opera there too, i read the entire libretto for this fic and by god i will pretend i know about it, it's an opera and it's a tragedy and we know what we're about here, just some emotions and comfort about it, night at the opera, not quite emotional hurt/comfort, please excuse the author as i am so fucking tired and i need a nap so badly, that's it that's the fic, these bitches bougie, they cuddle, wait if i actually read it does it count though?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley go to seeLa Traviataand dress to the nines in 1920's themed garb for a night at the opera!Cuddling ensues, both at the opera and at home after, and they're rather happy for all the ups and downs they may go through when it means they've got their own happy ending, no matter the opera on show.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31
Collections: Ineffable Wives Exchange 2020





	Bring Me Back This Flower; When it is Withered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shoebox_addict](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoebox_addict/gifts).



> A fill for the Ineffable Wives 2020 Exchange with the prompts: (1) The 1920s, (2) a night at the opera, (3) cozy times in their village in the South Downs. 
> 
> I hope you like this gift and they all blended well enough <3

"Did you ever meet him?" Aziraphale asked, looking up at Crowley from her place at Crowley's side.

"Mhm?" Crowley hummed, tearing her eyes from the first act of _La Traviata_ and turning her head to lay a kiss on Aziraphale's temple.

"Giuseppe Verdi, I mean." Aziraphale snuggled up closer in Crowley's lazy, one-armed embrace. The armrests of the usual Royal Opera House bucket seating in their grand tier box had long since disappeared from the seats and the lot of them had turned into an expansive, plush fainting couch. It had happened so slowly and gradually that Aziraphale had been surprised and delighted when Crowley nonchalantly pulled her close to lounge, pressed along her wife's side.

"Nggh, no. Never did, you know I wasn't in Italy then. Did you?" Crowley raised a hand to Aziraphale's hair and raked her fingers along the back of her head, smiling and turning her face back to the opera as Aziraphale sighed and enjoyed the touch.

"No, I would have liked to though, I think. He wrote _so many_ operas, such beautiful ones too I think. Especially at the time… _Nabucco_ and _Rigoletto_ were so lovely, and did you know he was in France too in the '50s?" Aziraphale replied, her eyes still closed and luxuriating in the casual touch they could share as publicly as they liked now.

Crowley's hum vibrated in her chest and Aziraphale couldn't help the small, secret joy well up in her chest or the smile growing on her lips. The intimacy of sitting in the dark box while a love story played out on stage, as Violetta gave Alfredo a flower from her bosom, was everything Aziraphale wanted. The lovely clothes, the good music, and the nibbles and drinks to come during the intermissions were enjoyable, but Aziraphale was happiest right now. She could feel the warmth of Crowley's side through the glass beads of her dress, could lay her head on Crowley's shoulder, and simply revel in the love of it all; bright and joyous and intoxicating as it permeated the whole of the opera house.

The lights turned on slowly after the stage's curtain fell and Crowley nudged at Aziraphale's side, pulling her from her luxuriating. With a silent sigh, Aziraphale stood and hauled Crowley up behind her, laughing quietly at the few stumbling steps Crowley took on long, coltish legs before she got her feet under her.

"Oh I just don't understand how you wear those, my dear." Aziraphale smiled and wrapped her hands around the crook of Crowley's proffered arm, stepping confidently at her side even as Crowley towered over her in her heels. "I never managed anything over an inch or so, they're just so impractical!"

Crowley laughed back, "That's the fun of it, angel! And you've got to admit, my legs look great in these, I saw you watching my arse up the stairs!"

Aziraphale tittered and covered her smile with a demure hand, "I couldn't possibly say… though I do very much think you've got a lovely arse, if you must know."

Crowley pumped a fist and smoothed the waistcoat of her tuxedo before opening the door out to the hallways and leading Aziraphale down to the bar below. "Wine? Nibbles?" She asked nonchalantly, as if they didn't always get something during intermission to bring back to the box.

"Yes," Aziraphale squeezed Crowley's arm excitedly, "Have you seen that they have that lovely honeycomb cheesecake on the menu again?"

"I did!" Crowley nodded, "They've also got that honey baba au rhum…" She led Aziraphale through to the Piazza Terrace Bar and ordered themselves a bruschetta and olives and breads with dipping oil, their desserts, and a bottle of the Syrah Rosé. With a snap everything was back up in their box and on a newly conjured table, Aziraphale settled her hands back into the crook of Crowley's arm and they sauntered back to the box, idly commenting on the accuracy of various costuming.

"After you," Crowley half-bowed at the waist, opening the door to their box for Aziraphale and smiled stupidly when Aziraphale took an extra second to buss a kiss to her cheek with a slight giggle.

"Thank you, my dear," Aziraphale crossed slowly to their lounging chair, hoping Crowley would sit first and hold her close once more. She knew she could simply ask, and there was absolutely no worry in her mind the answer would be no, but sometimes it still snuck up on her that she was allowed to ask in the first place. Sometimes it still felt like they had to stay apart for their safety, even though she _knew_ that wasn't true anymore. So, old habits cropped up even as they worked to be clearer about their wants and desires with each other, and relied on the other to intuit like they had for so many millennia.

Crowley raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale. She could feel the slight flush rise on her cheeks, but clasped her hands in front of her chest and batted her eyes up at Crowley as obviously as she could manage. A smile overtook her lips when Crowley only huffed a laugh and settled herself into the chair first, pulling the small table a little closer and opening her arms for Aziraphale to snuggle into.

"Hurry up, angel, 'm not gonna wait with my arms up forever, an' the opera's starting again." Crowley drawled and watched Aziraphale with eyes that were surely intent behind her dark glasses. Another old habit, and one Aziraphale couldn't be happier to see slowly phase out to be replaced by Crowley's glasses coming off more and more when it was just them, even if sometimes it was still technically public. After Aziraphale had clearly said how much she adored seeing Crowley's eyes, there had been a sudden and marked difference in how worried Crowley had seemed about humans being uncomfortable with them.

Aziraphale didn't bother to refresh the launder-and-press miracle over her clothes as she hiked up her skirts just a little, mussing the lines of beads and embroidery in her fists, so she could crawl up onto the fainting couch and lay firmly against Crowley's side.

The opera picked up once more with Violetta and Alfredo withdrawing to a country house and then separating to make plans and arrangements for their future together.

* * *

By the time Flora's party is in full swing and Alfredo sings his lines to the guests, "I have called you here as witnesses that I have paid her all I owe," Aziraphale's hands clenched in Crowley's waistcoat lapels and she felt like she was brimming and overflowing with the tension tragedies always brought, and Crowley's hands have mussed her hair even more.

"I love you," Crowley murmured quietly, and sang in a husky alto unsuited to opera along with Violetta only a few moments later, changing the words, "You entirely understand fully the love I have in my heart; you have known that even at the risk of your disdain I have put it to the test!"

At this, the tears gathering in Aziraphale's eyes spilled over and down her cheeks. The song ended, the actors upon stage finished their lines, and then the curtain fell for the second intermission as the lights slowly turned to dim and then to full strength to allow patrons in and out.

Instead of moving, Crowley only held Aziraphale closer, arms tight around her shoulders, and Aziraphale was grateful for it as she sobbed quietly into the previously pristine white of Crowley's tuxedo shirt.

"Oh my dear, my love," Aziraphale's voice shook, "They are so unhappy!"

Crowley smoothed her hands flat over Aziraphale's sides to soothe her and crooned, "Yes, their love is a tragedy, angel, but you know it's neither of their fault, yes? There are so many things in play that neither can see, the composer sets their paths and they choose as they may in their circumstances but… they are who they are. They play their parts. Aziraphale, look at me. Please, I need you to look at me."

Aziraphale hiccoughed a weak sob and Crowley's hands were on her jaw, drawing her up to look, their eyes meeting in the full light of the intermission and uninhibited by dark glasses. Golden eyes shimmered with emotions and unshed tears and utter, wild joy and relief, so shocking in its intensity that it dried Aziraphale's tears immediately just as surely as Crowley's thumbs wiped them away from her cheeks.

"I love you, angel." Crowley spoke softly, "And in my short-sightedness, I spurned you in the past just as Alfredo had– no please don't interrupt me. I know why we're crying, my dove, I haven't said this so frankly and I think I may need it. I love you dearly, I know you know, but I have not always been _kind_ to you, I couldn't have been because of the conductors whose music we were made to dance to said we could not, but now? We've broken away, we're alright, angel. We're alright... "

"Crowley–" Aziraphale whispered, voice cracking and raw.

"We're alright, my dove, and I'll say it however many times you need, and you can remind me too when I have my days, just like we always have. And, really, what's a tragedy except for a funny one focused on the wrong people?" Crowley barked a laugh at her own terrible joke, "Who says we're a tragedy anyway? Star crossed? Fuck that, angel, we're the stars themselves, made to pull each other closer and closer, we'll last it out, all those things that try to keep us away, yeah?"

"Y– yeah," Aziraphale gave a watery chuckle and surged forward to kiss Crowley. Her shoulders still shook and she pulled Crowley impossibly closer, needing the feel of Crowley's body pressed against her own, a promise she'd never be taken away, never again.

"Do you want to stay, angel?" Crowley asked softly after their kiss broke, her voice gentle and low, "There's another couple minutes of intermission, and then act three. Doesn't end nice. 's a tragedy, yanno."

Aziraphale laughed, still a bit wobbly sounding but altogether better. "You know me, darling, I love a good tragedy and, well... Is it terrible of me to say I find it beautiful?"

"Why would it be?"

"I don't know… I suppose– I think I should like the nicer things more, the times where sacrifices have meant something–"

"Have brought them closer to Her, you mean?"

"I– oh… well. Maybe. But still! I shouldn't like it for the sake of it, for the pain…"

Crowley hummed and wobbled her hand back and forth in the air, "Do you know, it can be cathartic." She shrugged, and Aziraphale felt the movement, as slight as it was. "To interact with the sad things like this... When it's not happening to you and you can appreciate it through the distance of a glass lens…"

"Crowley?" Aziraphale began softly.

"Yes, angel?"

"I'd like to stay, through 'till the end."

Crowley kissed her forehead and held Aziraphale tighter to her chest. "Whatever you like."

* * *

The drums pounded and trumpets shouted their final strains and the theatre was dark for the beat of a heart until people were clapping at the falling curtain with enthusiasm. Aziraphale, for her part, was clapping through her tears and smiling widely, having enjoyed the whole experience.

"Oh my dear," she breathed excitedly, "Wasn't that lovely?! Such phenomenal performers!"

Crowley grumbled goodnaturedly and patted Aziraphale's hip rhythmically, as if she were attempting to clap with only one hand but also wholly unwilling to let Aziraphale up from their lazy repose. The lights turned on and once the bows were done and the rest of the patrons stood to leave, so too did Aziraphale and Crowley. A lackadaisical wave from Crowley returned their seats to how they ought to be and Aziraphale added in her own soft wave of power to clean up their wine and nibbles.

"Ready to go, my dear?" Crowley held out her elbow for Aziraphale, which she happily took, pleased beyond measure that this wasn't the first time nor would it be the last time she'd be able to so casually touch and cling to her wife.

* * *

Hours later, back at their home nestled away just north of Southwick in Sussex, not so far away from where the Arrangement was first proposed by Crowley (and where Aziraphale had proposed another sort of Arrangement with a new cottage), Aziraphale opened the door and lead in a very tired Crowley.

Her bowtie was the first to go, and Aziraphale had to bite her tongue to keep from cooing over the deep black tartan pattern over the charcoal grey fabric. It was a subtle nod to Aziraphale's own pattern, but in Crowley's preferred colors, complete with very thin, wine-dark red lines intersecting. Subtle enough to be waved away without any close inspection, which Aziraphale was sure Crowley had intended to do. It filled her heart full to bursting with love for Crowley, who asked for nothing except Aziraphale's good company and in return let Aziraphale go at her own pace, exactly as she needed.

"My love is patient, my love is kind," Aziraphale murmured, kissing slowly along Crowley's jaw, treasuring her wife and holding her face in a gentle caress. Crowley hummed and closed her eyes, letting Aziraphale continue to undress her. "My love does not envy, she does not boast, nor is she so proud."

"Angel…" Crowley groaned and cracked open an eyelid just enough to make eye contact and huff, but didn't stop Aziraphale from removing her outer coat nor her tuxedo jacket.

Aziraphale continued, smiling, and kissed Crowley between phrases, "She hath not dishonored me, she is not self-seeking, she is not easily angered. My love has kept no record of wrongs. She has not delighted in my hurt but rejoiced in my truths."

Crowley’s shirt was untucked, trousers half-unbuttoned, sans waistcoat and suspenders, her shoes were off and she was nearly falling asleep on her feet. Taking pity, Azirpahale swept Crowley up in her arms and carried her to the couch, where she laid down with Crowley still cradled in her arms. Along the way Azirpahale's gown softened and shifted into something more suitable for bed, even though they were only heading to the old, comfortable couch pilfered and moved from Aziraphale's bookshop.

"My love, oh my love, she has always protected me, she has always trusted and always hoped; my love has always persevered even when I have not had such belief." Aziraphale pulled a flower off her dress. Previously it had been made of beautiful glass beads and delicately embroidered leaves of gold, but she blinked and held it out to Crowley. The petals were a perfect, glossy black and the stem and leaves kept their own color as well in the way leaves turned burnished gold in the autumn with hints of rich orange at the edges.

"Will you bring this back to me?" Aziraphale recited the lines from the opera, Violetta's words felt important. Or, at least, romantic, and that was nearly the same when concerning Crowley.

"When?"

"When it is withered."

"And if that is tomorrow?" Crowley whispered, her forehead pressed gently against Aziraphale's, their lips nearly brushing with every word.

"Then tomorrow." Aziraphale smiled and giggled before tilting her head to kiss Crowley softly. "See me again tomorrow, my love."

"Of course, as long as you promise me one thing." Crowley's voice turned teasing and Aziraphale narrowed her eyes at her wife.

"What thing?"

"Don't die of consumption at the end." Crowley deadpanned. Then smiled wickedly at the surprised snort of laughter she'd pulled from Aziraphale, and peppered her face with kisses until the laughter subsided.

"Of course, my dear." Aziraphale smiled softly. "Anything you like."

**Author's Note:**

> The descriptions never really got added into the fic itself because it never quite fit anywhere, but here's what my notes were:
> 
> \- Crowley in a tux + oxfords with a (chunky) high military heel  
> \- Aziraphale in a floor-length dress with art deco patterning of glass beads, trailing uneven flared skirt (in champagne and walnut brown) + opera coat/cape wrap with rabbit fur collar and made of velvet, with hare and snake embroidered hems


End file.
